


truth or truth

by manhattanmatcha



Series: seijoh series [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, I make myself laugh, I want them, esp his eyebrows, fluffy matsukawa, i honestly love him so much, lmfaoooooooooo, matsukawa and his so try out abg pomade on his eyebrows, wait here's a concept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manhattanmatcha/pseuds/manhattanmatcha
Summary: a game that you and your roommate play every friday night takes an unexpected, exciting turn
Relationships: Matsukawa Issei/Reader
Series: seijoh series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887868
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoy this :^) this was really fun to write
> 
> disclaimer: (i'm sick of having to write these but writing for ffn has conditioned me) I DO NOT OWN HAIKYUU (happy!?)

You can think of worse ways to spend a Friday night, you reflect, leaning back into your couch as you wash down another piece of Korean fried chicken with a sip of beer. Next to you, your roommate is the picture of utmost concentration: shoulders hunched, brow furrowed, teeth running over his bottom lip. Though you can also think of better ways (read: out at dinner with friends, clubbing, and/or bingeing Gossip Girl in bed with chopsticks and chips) staying in with your roommate on Friday nights has somehow become a household tradition for the two of you.

"I'm telling you one last time," you say. "That picture is not it."

"My hair looks great, though. I feel like it's necessary for my audience to know that I can pull off a fishing slash bucket hat."

"Then put on a bucket hat, and let's go out and take some pictures. But for god's sake do not become one of those bitches who brags about how good they are at fishing."

"I am good at fishing-- that's not the point. The point is I look good."

"The point is no matter how good you look, you are holding a dead fish in your hands, and no woman in the entirety of this big wide world has ever seen a picture of a man with a fish in his hands and thought, _Woah. Sexy. Wanna smash._ That's actually the biggest turn off ever."

"Okay, okay. Jeez." Grumbling, Matsukawa deletes that picture from an album entitled: TINDER POSSIBLE PICTURES. So far, you've approved of one where he's playing volleyball with the neighborhood association (he has really nice arms, you'll give him that. And nice legs too), one where he's wearing a tux (this is how you found out that he works for a FUNERAL HOME), and that's about all the two of you have covered in the past hour, which, granted, has been punctuated by lots of eating and lively conversation.

Peeking over his shoulder now, you take another swig from your glass. And then abruptly choke as you attempt to swallow. 

"Woah!" Matsukawa startles and begins pounding your back. Then he reaches to grab you a napkin from the coffee table. You take it and dab at the corners of your eyes.

"Jesus, Matsukawa," you rasp. "I didn't know you were friends with _Oikawa fucking Tooru._ " The picture is of him, a tall black spikey haired guy, a pink headed bowl head cut guy, and the freaking genius setter of the CA San Juan volleyball club, the legend OIKAWA TOORU.

"Is _that_ why you short circuited just now?" He rolls his eyes. "He's taken."

"I know, and I think they're so cute together, but he's an amazing freaking setter. God tier. Will you get me his autograph for my birthday?"

"I didn't know you liked volleyball," Matsukawa says, surprised. "And yes, I can do that."

" _Thank_ you. Omigosh. This is crazy. I actually cheered for Argentina in last year's Olympics just because he was the setter on the team. And I -- this is kind of embarrassing -- got into it after reading a volleyball manga back in high school."

"Thank _you,_ that'll save me the 30 bucks and time I would've had to spent for your present. And hah, I bet you were the totally crazy type of fan."

"I was. I bought all the books in hardcover, and little plastic figurines of all the characters, and I wrote lotsa fanfiction."

"So _that's_ what those little dolls on top of your dresser are?"

"Yes. You touch them, you die, by the way. They're more precious to me than babies. Why don't you add that picture to the group of acceptable pictures?"

"No," Matsukawa laughs. "Everyone is going to only hit me up for Oikawa's number, that bastard. Everyone has this image of him in their head like, I don't know, athletic, rich, no worries in the world ever kind of fuckboy, but really he's just athletic and rich. He's the biggest ever simp for the girl he loves. He yearned after her for 10 years. 10 whole years."

"I like him even better now," you proclaim. "Good to know that there are still _some_ good men in this world. Present company included, of course."

"Ooh, I sense drama. What's the story?"

You giggle. Matsukawa, like all men, secretly loves to gossip. "Nothing, there's no ' _story'_. I just got cheated on. Three times."

"Bastard. Who is it? I'll avenge you."

"Thanks, sweetie, but I'm over it. That was 2 years ago. I just don't believe in love anymore. Oh god," you begin laughing, "I'm 27. Did I really say that out loud? _I don't believe in love anymore?_ I sound like a 17 year old child of divorce."

Your roommate begins laughing too. "It could be worse. I'm 28 and on Tinder."

"You're right, it could be worse, you're not even on Tinder yet!" you throw your head back and catch your breath. "We need to get you on Tinder! We need to get you cuffed up and restore my belief in the power of love! Okay, let's get back to the task at hand. Are you really not going to post that picture?"

Matsukawa is firm on this one. "Nope."

You show him a pouty face and take his phone. "Aww, okay. Who's the pink haired guy?"

"Hanamaki. Isn't he such a cutie?"

"Why are you even on Tinder? Go for it. I support you. Hanamaki x Matsukawa."

"Don't be getting all fanfiction on me, little girl," he teases. "Besides, as much as I love him, he's a little bastard. Doesn't believe in monogamy. Doesn't believe in pepperoni on pizza. Doesn't believe the earth is round. That type of shit."

"Now, if you don't want him, introduce _me._ He sounds like a lot of fun."

"Yeah, it's all fun and games until you stick your head too far in and you get your heart broken. Nope, I do not want to be picking up the pieces of _that_ mess. I need you very heart non-broken and functional so my Friday nights are still fun."

"You're having fun? Me too!" You feel delighted. Matsukawa comes off as blase on just about everything sometimes, so moments where he bares his feelings to you are special.

He gives you a weird look. "I'm glad, princess. But I'm also sick of looking at pictures. My eyes hurt."

"Old man."

"Old man who is technically your landlord."

"I pay rent!"

"I pay mortgage." He pauses. "Okay, that didn't make sense, but TECHNICALLY the house is in my name. So let's play Truth or Truth."

You burst into giggles. "So many things to unpack, where do I start? First of all, what is that line of reasoning? Second of all, Truth or Truth, really? Are you in middle school!" He tugs on your leg, undeterred, and you drape both of your legs on his lap. "Fine. I go first. Umm... first kiss story?"

"First kiss? And you said I was the one in middle school." Now Matsukawa is the one to laugh. "Let's see, it was... in my last year of primary school, with a first year middle school girl. Our parents were friends. Hey, don't look at me like that, I was tall and handsome even back then."

You raise your eyebrows and whistle. "Okay, Tall and Handsome."

"Damn straight. My turn. When's the last time you went on a date?"

You start laughing. "What?"

"You're always home, honey. Mommy wants to be a grandma someday."

"Stop!" you are convulsing now. "You sound like her!"

"Well?"

You think for a while. "Well, the last time I had a _boyfriend_ boyfriend was 2 years ago, with Bastard. But I hooked up with someone three months ago after a night out, and two weeks ago I went on a blind date for lunch because my coworker asked me to, but other than that work is really stressful recently. So it's much more relaxing to spend the night in with you." You lift you leg to nudge his knee with your foot.

"How'd it go?"

"Which one?"

"Both!" he exclaims, and both of you start laughing again.

"The hookup, awful. I hate one night stands. Plus I think I'm getting too old for getting hit on by sneaky young men in bars. The blind date was a more age appropriate activity, but it was... bah. I deleted his contact. Hey, it's _my_ turn!"

"You're right," Matsukawa grins, "my bad."

You have something you've been curious about for a long time. "What was your ex like?"

He thinks. "She was my rock."

"So why'd you end things?"

He thinks some more. "It just didn't work out. It was really shallow. We wouldn't fight."

"That's a good relationship in my book," you think to a decade ago, where your parents screamed at each other, at you, at each other again, throwing things against the walls of the house, slamming doors, eventually your father moving out. Then you think about those early years at university, where you tried to find solace and comfort in relationships, where you tried to find proof that love still exists, only to be rejected and dumped and stepped on at every twist and turn. Finally you think to 2 years ago, when you thought you had truly found love. How your heart had shattered when your then boyfriend threw that love back in your face! You're fine now, of course, completely rebuilt and unscarred and unfettered. You're bulletproof now, armed with charm and humor.

Matsukawa sighs fondly, as if he can see your thoughts. He raises a big paw to rub your hair: "You'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

Three Fridays have passed since your first truth or truth game, and now you and Matsukawa have made it one of your traditions to start off every hangout with said game. This Friday night is no different. “Truth or truth," you say. "You can go first because I'm generous."

Matsukawa hands you the jumbo sized bag of chips, chomping. "Thoughts about climate change, marriage, and spag bol."

You raise your eyebrows. "Three very diverse topics. Okay, let's see. It exists, it's a capitalist institution, and every man I've slept with claims his spag bol is better than anything I've ever tasted before.”

"Capitalist institution? Big words for such a little girl." Here you stick your tongue out at him in response. "So do you think you're never going to get married?"

"I'll only get married to someone I love, and can see myself loving, for a long time. But currently I am in that period of my life where I really don’t think that love exists. So to answer your question... yes."

“Interesting,” he strokes his chin. “Your turn.”

“Thoughts about Tinder, your workplace,” here you snicker, “and... me. Rate my physical attractiveness.”

“You want me to objectify you,” your roommate deadpans.

“Good boy, Matsukawa.”

In response he grins wolfishly. “What the lady wants, she gets. Okay, so Tinder— too many women thirsting after me in my DM’s. They’re clearly very shallow—” you laugh for a long time at this. “—hey, I’m being serious!”

“That’s the POINT of Tinder, dumbass. Presenting you to someone based off how physically attracted you are to them. Then you talk for a while and if you’re compatible, you meet up, and that’s how a relationship starts. Besides, you had to have swiped right on them too.”

“Well, yes.”

“See.”

“But starting up a conversation with _I want you to break my back_ doesn’t make me comfortable.”

“I know you secretly loved it.”

“I did. And it made me horny. But also, uncomfortable.” The two of you laugh at this for a long time before you sit up: “Okay, but there had to be some sweet women too.”

“There were,” Matsukawa nods, “but they weren’t… funny. There was no spark.”

You groan. “You’re impossible!”

“I have _high standards._ ”

“Yeah, and that’s fine for every single aspect of life except for Tinder.”

“I don’t pick and choose with my _values,_ (Name). Unlike—”

“So, work.” You take another handful of chips. “Keep going.”

“Work is boring. I don’t get why you find it so funny I work at a funeral home.”

“Because you are the kind of guy I would expect working at a normal job. Like me. Boring ass accountant. Hey, we should switch. Sometimes,” you lean in conspiratorially. “When we have meetings, which is often, there will be free snacks on the table. Tea and coffee and cookies. Also, we ladies have a nonwritten dress code of skirt suits, and it gets boring, so we tend to get… creative with the material, the fit, the length. And we’re mostly all single. You’re tall and brooding. You could _score._ ”

Matsukawa mirrors your pose. “You know, sometimes, there are really hot girls crying over whoever they lost. Grandfather, aunt, whatever. I get to cheer them up… and then _cheer_ them up, if you know what I mean.”

“Matsukawa, you’re actually awful!” You clip him on the shoulder, hard.

“Ow! I don’t actually! I was joking, sheesh,” he exclaims, rubbing where you hit. “You have a good left hook. I work in management. I don’t get to see any corpses.”

“See, management. That’s boring, predictable. Way more fitting.”

“Besides,” Matsukawa continues. He smirks at you. “With my looks, I can _score_ whenever, wherever. It’s not really a problem for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You and your groupies.”

“You mean you and _your_ groupies. You’ve been real busy these weekends, huh?”

“Remember when I said blind dates were bah?” You wait for him to nod. He rips open a pack of Fruit Snacks and takes a handful. You grab the bag from him and pop a strawberry into your mouth. “Well, they’re kind of fun.”

“Fun? You must be breaking hearts.”

“As if! I haven’t slept with a single one of them. But it’s kind of fun to play the get to know you game. And if it was bad there's always my dinners paid for.”

“ _We_ play the get to know you game,” Matsukawa says petulantly. "And I can cook."

“I know you don’t like the idea of Mommy dating, sweetie, but she’s a single woman and everyone wants a piece of this.”

“So either I suck it up or you ship me off to live with my deadbeat dad.”

“My son is so smart, so advanced.”

"You're mean. Are all pretty girls mean? You're pretty. A 10. Okay, my turn to ask questions now. What do you look for in a partner."

"He has to be the whole thing. Tall _and_ handsome _and_ funny _and_ loyal _and_ willing to have water-balloon and pillow fights. What do you listen to when you have earbuds in?"

"Classical music. My friend Iwaizumi got me into it. Would you date me?"

For a single second you're stunned into quiet, and a million thoughts race through your head: _is he being serious? Or is this just a part of the game? Most importantly, will our friendship be affected by what I say? He's the only guy friend I have! No, these days he's the only FRIEND I have period! And oh god, he's my roommate! No, I can't risk it. I have so much fun with him and it would be too much if that all ended._

Matsukawa looks into your eyes. "I like you." His eyes are bright and burning, like coal on its way to becoming diamond.

When you open your mouth, the wrong words come out: 

"I- I'm sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

"So you just left him," your best friend Hotaru deadpans. "And now a week later you're still avoiding him. Running away from your own house."

"Technically, it's _his_ house," you inform her.

"You pay rent!" your other bestie Mikan chirps up. 

"Well, he pays mortgage!" For some reason, you feel like you've had this conversation already. "Anyways, that's not what this is about. This is about me grieving over the one man in my life that I trusted not to want in to my pants, and he's gone off and told me that he does in fact want an in into my pants."

"Is he ugly?" Hotaru asks.

" _Hotaru!_ " Mikan and you exclaim in unison.

She shrugs and picks up her drink. "Maybe it would explain why you didn't just give it a go. I mean, a few months ago you were spending every night together on the couch instead of hitting the clubs with your _true_ best friends. The ones who held your hair back when you puked in college. The ones who brought you back from Osaka when you came back to consciousness after blacking out drunk. The ones who--"

"Okay, okay," you hasten. The guilt is settling in. Also, you do not want to relive the past anymore, at least not on Hotaru's blunt terms. "So we had a nice time together. And he's not ugly. He's actually..." you think of his high cheekbones, his sharp jawline, his lidded eyes, his thick eyebrows (damn him, he didn't nearly appreciate them half as much as you would have) and his hands, unusually calloused and rough for an office worker. You swallow.

"Now _you_ want in to _his_ pants!" Mikan exclaims. This turns a lot of heads. "Sorry, sorry. Hotaru, you look like you're going to murder me."

"So he's sexy. So what?" you say defensively.

"So why didn't you get it on with him when he asked," Hotaru says. "Show me a picture of him."

You look through your phone as you respond: "He's my friend. I'd be stupid to do anything to risk that." You hand her the selfie that the two of you took. In the picture the two of you are snuggling in one blanket, and your eyes are bright. Matsukawa's cheeks are dusted red. _Had we been drinking that night,_ you wonder.

"Well, look where that got you. I like his looks," Mikan says, peering over Hotaru's shoulder. 

"It's too bad," Hotaru says.

"What," you're trying not to be curious, but... you're curious.

"It's too bad you ran away when he called your bluff, I mean."

You straighten. "He did not _call my bluff._ "

"Actually, I agree with Hotaru," Mikan says thoughtfully. "You've only been going out on first dates and having fun, but you've never made a commitment. I introduced you to 5 men and you didn't try with any one of them. I'm tired of fielding questions about whether you'll agree to a second date or of why you didn't call back so early in the morning when I'm still hungover from the previous night."

"So?"

"So you have to realize it's not a viable long term plan," Hotaru says, ever the cool headed analyst. "This Matsukawa asks you out, and you panic because a. he's your type, b. you can see yourself in a relationship with him, c. you don't do relationships because you don't believe in love and yet simultaneously can't imagine being without his friendship, d.--"

"Wait a sec," you blurt out. "He's not my _type._ "

"Yes he is," Mikan pipes up again. "He checks all the boxes of your impossible and annoying checklist."

"It's called having high standards," you admit.

"It's called being impossible and annoying. Anyways, that's that," Mikan says. "Are you going to move out?"

"I don't want to. Should I?" you ask the two girls. "I feel like I don't ever know what to do." The tea leaves in your cup swirl and settle as you take a drink and set the cup down.

Hotaru's purple eyed gaze is steady. "I think you know what you should do. But you keep denying it. Sooner or later, you'll realize. I really hope it's sooner rather than later, though," she adds. "Because soon enough it'll be too late."


	4. Chapter 4

Your first vacation day in what feels like a decade, and of course it ends up with you in bed. Day drinking should be illegal, you muse as you watch the glamorous characters of Gossip Girl down yet another shot of tequila. Suddenly you see a shadow cross your threshold. Matsukawa knocks lightly on your doorjamb. "I'm coming in, loser."

You're currently sulking under your covers, nursing a hangover _and_ a raging fever. Not even Chuck Bass can comfort you. "I didn't agree."

"Well, too bad. We need to talk."

"I have a fever."

In response, he holds up bags from your favorite take out place.

"On second thought..." You sit up straight, gently snap your laptop closed, and make room for Matsukawa on your bed. He glances at your Hello Kitty bedspread. "Hey. Are you judging the Kitty? You don't get the judge the Kitty."

"No judging of the Kitty here," Matsukawa says, setting down the plastic bags. You dig into them to find that he's brought your favorite dishes, and you smile. "I'm not staying, by the way."

"Hey, you bough-- wait, what do you mean you're not staying?" You gesture to your bedspread. _Plus, it's Friday,_ you think. _Friday nights are our nights._ Then you feel a flash of guilt as the devil on your shoulder whispers: _Not for the past month they haven't, with you avoiding him like the plague._

Matsukawa squirms. You narrow your eyes. Finally, he spits it out: "I have a date." Your heart stops for a moment. Then it starts again. _It's probably from the shock,_ you think.

"A date!" you spit out. "And you didn't tell me!"

"You were avoiding me!"

"You made things awkward!"

Just like that, your roommate becomes squeamish and squirmy again. "Okay, okay, you're right. Anyways, I just got these as an apology. I shouldn't have come onto you like that--"

"--well, you didn't really COME ON to me, but--"

"--and made things awkward. I miss our old friendship--"

"--yeah, me too. Look at what you did. You ruined the highlight of my week--"

"--so can we just move on and pretend this never happened and have things back to how they used to be?"

You pretend to act confused. "You want to move on and have things go back to how they used to be?"

Matsukawa casually takes ahold of one of the nenderoids on your dresser threateningly. 

"Nevermind, nevermind, that sounds great, put Osamu _down,_ " you hasten to say. "Besides, it seems like _you're_ already moving on. _You're_ the one who has a date."

He looks confused. "That's good, right?"

You scoff. That is so like a man. "You made me confused and worried and anxious and think about you for the past few weeks every single night and now you just want to act like nothing happened! Give me back the hours of sleep you stole from me!"

He tilts his head. "You think about me at night."

You hurl one of your pillows at him, which he unfortunately catches. Snickering, he sets it at the foot of your bed, already retreating out of your bedroom. "Catch ya later, princess," he calls over her shoulder. "Drink your fluids and take medicine and finish all of the porridge please."

"Screw you!" you shout back hoarsely.

"I'll be home late! Don't wait up!"

For some reason, this makes you intensely annoyed. So annoyed that even Nate Archibald's pretty face doesn't cool you down. You lie against your headboard, clutching a soup spoon in one hand and tissues in another hand, looking murderously at the wall.

* * *

You're in the same position 5 hours later, when you hear the door open and shut. So that idiotic and annoying roommate of yours finally came back home, you muse, _finally,_ at the lovely hour of 1 in the morning. However, you're clutching your phone in your hand instead of the spoon this time. You're on FaceTime with Hotaru and Mikan.

"He's back," you tell them tersely.

"Seriously," Mikan yawns. "You made me stay up past my bedtime for _this_? I knew you didn't really want to discuss why Gossip Gir--"

"I'm going to say this again. He's _allowed_ to go on a date," Hotaru cuts in. "You rejected him. He's single."

"But he's my roommate."

"Don't be selfish."

These words are like a slap in the face to you. You _are_ being selfish, you realize. Ergo, the angry pose as you do some spontaneous self reflection/berating is what Matsukawa finds you in when he drops by your room to check on you. "Woah!" he does a double take. "Who killed your dog?"

"It's 1," you clip back snidely. 

Mikan yawns. "(Name), I'm sleepy."

"She's going to regret this tomorrow," Hotaru snickers.

"So it is," Matsukawa says. "How's the fever?"

"So it is _what?"_ you ask.

"So it is... 1 o'clock," Matsukawa replies, a little bewildered. "Oh, are those your friends on the line? Hey, this is--"

"Oh, we know about you," Mikan says, suddenly alert. 

"So he's the one," Hotaru remarks. 

"Actually, it's 1:18," you tell Matsukawa. "Late night?"

He rolls his eyes at you. "The one who what?" he asks Hotaru.

"Hotaru, do not respond." This is you.

"The one who our friend here has been talking about nonstop," Hotaru replies, clearly amused.

"Oh really," Matsukawa says, with something tight in his voice. You try to identify it. Anger? Annoyance?

You hasten to remedy the situation. "I haven't been talking about you nonstop," you say.

"Yes you have," Mikan chimes in. "All night you kept making passive aggressive digs at a certain someone who left their sick roommate on their brink of death to go on a date even though he's asked--"

"I may have mentioned that a few times," you admit. "But not all night. I wouldn't say all night."

"You called us right after he left," Hotaru points out. "And it's technically morning now. So all night is _technically_ correct."

"Well, aren't you so precise and technical now," you snap.

Matsukawa pries the phone from your gorilla grip, amid loud protests coming from you. "Okay, I think she has to call it a night."

"Sorry about this one," Mikan says, all of a sudden tired again. She yawns for the last time. 

Hotaru is more blunt. "She has a lot of issues. Well, just bear with her for a while. She's stinky but she has a good heart."

"Definitely stinky," Matsukawa says. "Don't worry about it. I got it." He says goodbye to your friends and then hangs up.

"And now you're stealing my friends," you tell him grumpily.

He sighs and puts a big hand over your forehead. "You're burning up," he tells you. "Where's the thermometer?"

"I don't know."

"(Name)."

"Matsu... Issei."

Matsukawa swears softly. "What am I going to do with you?"

You relent. "It's in the drawer. Not that one," you say, alarmed, "that's my undies and my manga books. The one beneath." You allow him to insert the device in your ear.

It beeps. "102.5 degrees," he says.

"Could be worse," you shrug.

"You're insane. Seriously, what am I going to do with you." He runs his hands through his hair. Suddenly you want to run your hands through his hair. You motion for him to lean forwards. His curls are soft and smell like alcohol and grapefruit. He groans underneath your touch. Startled, you pull back and he lifts his head. "(Name)." His voice is unsure and deep and quiet. 

"I don't want you to do that anymore."

"Go out?" He straightens. "So you won't go out with me, but I can't go out with anyone else?"

 _You're not thinking straight,_ a voice in your mind whispers. _Don't do anything rash._

 _To hell with that,_ you reply fiercely. _I miss lying on the couch tangled with him and eating chips. I miss reenacting ANTM in the living room with each others' clothes. I miss him._

So you take a deep breath, and blurt it out: "Go out with me."


	5. Chapter 5

Mikan and Hotaru are looking your way smugly. You avoid their gazes by peering into this soup. "Wow, the texture is really thick," you point out, using a spoon to swirl the broth. "It really makes you feel as if it's going to be delicious."

"Enough about the soup. I want to know how it's been." Hotaru says bluntly.

"I want to know how it's been... _in bed,_ " Mikan attempts a wink. It fails and she laughs at herself.

"He's coming soon. Ask him yourself," you say defensively in a blatant attempt to change the subject. You and Issei have been together for around a month, and still you marvel at how happy you can make him -- such as last night, when you asked if he would be willing to have dinner with your closest friends. When you saw how happy it made him, something struck your chest and your heart began vibrating really fast.

Mikan and Hotaru are not easily diverted. When you see your distraction tactic has failed, you give in. "Fine. I'm having a good time with Issei. He makes me laugh, he's caring and kind, and yes, he has made me orgasm. Does that make you happy?"

"Yes, the satisfaction of knowing that I was once again right is gratifying," Hotaru says, leaning back and crossing her legs primly. "What can I say?--"

"-- _don't_ say it--"

"--I told you say," Mikan finishes cheekily. "I told you going out with him would be a good idea. That's why all the movie tropes sell the friends to lovers situation. Because it's most ideal."

"But that's the thing," you lean in, confiding in your best friends. "I feel like it's just our friendship. Our friendship added with..." you think of Matsukawa's heavy gaze in bed, the spark of electricity when your lips touch, his large and gentle hands... "added with, ahem, other more physical aspects. But overall I feel like what we have is friendship, not love."

"Who's to say that's not love, though," Hotaru says in response. "It just means you two are really compatible. Why, what is your definition of love?"

You think about your parents screaming and yelling at each other most of the days, using you as a go between, your dad buried in his work and your mother running out of the house as if she couldn't leave you all behind fast enough. But then there were days where everything was alright, when the three of you held hands and went out to dinner. You think about the anxiety your ex-boyfriend gave you when he didn't call, when he was posted up with a pretty girl at a party instead of studying for biochem like he said he was, when he was at a bar chatting girls up instead of responding to your texts. But then when you were together he treated you like a queen -- attentively, lovingly, charmingly. You share these thoughts with Mikan and Hotaru.

"Oh, (Name)," Mikan sighs. "You deserve happiness."

"But--"

"You're fucked up," Hotaru says not unkindly. "Here's the thing. You've had these tumultuous experiences so when things were not crazy you felt the happiness to an even further extent than what the event actually merits. Because you were comparing it," she adds, when you look confused. "Look. A boyfriend is _supposed_ to treat his girl right. Does Matsukawa answer your texts?"

"Yeah. Oh! And he always texts me good morning," you think. "Sometimes I get up earlier than him though, and it's me--"

"Exactly. But that doesn't bring you as much happiness as it did when the nasty piece of shit texted you, right?"

"In the _context_ of--"

"See?" You think this over. It makes sense. 

"Let's put it another way," Mikan cuts in. "Would you go back to your ex if he asked? Or would you stay with the relationship you have now?"

The answer is out of your mouth before you even realize it. "Obviously I would stay with Issei." Then you pause, realizing the implications of what you just said. "Is this love, then? Is love supposed to be that easy?"

Mikan's voice is gentle. "Yes. Love is easy if you allow it to be easy." Then she looks up. You turn and see your boyfriend approaching, looking sharp in his work clothes. Mikan's voice turns sly: "So this is the infamous Matsukawa..."

* * *

Unsurprisingly, you're unable to rid your head of Mikan and Hotaru's words. They've given you food for thought, relationships wise. They've made you think about love.

The first time you and Issei had sex, on your second date, he'd whispered it into your shoulder just before you passed out: _I love you, (Name)._ You hadn't thought much of it. Now you rewind those words in your head, again and again. And parallel to that song is another soundtrack: _Do I love him? Do I love him? Do I love him?_ _What is love? What is love? What is love?_

This is a new place for you, you reflect. _I've never thought about love in a relationship ever since 2 years ago._ And really, even 2 years ago, you had known he wasn't the one. The happiness that you had when the two of you were together could not outweigh the suspicion, the nerves, the guilt that had visited when he was not by your side. But you had still _tried_ loving him nonetheless, no matter how tiring and draining it was. 

_Do I love him? Do I love him? Do I love him? What is love? What is love? What is love?_

As you ponder, you listen to the sound of rushing water as Issei uses your shower. The two of you are in your room today, because his sheets need washing and your bed feels neglected. You predict that your tall boyfriend is going to bump some part of his body against the door, as the shower is a little small for him. You smile when you hear him cuss: _"Shit! Owww..._ (Name)! Come kiss my boo-boo!"

"Yeah, I bet you want me to kiss your boo-boo, alright!" you call out, laughing. "I'm not in the mood. I want to cuddle."

"Get your mind out of the gutter! I didn't mean my _dick_! I banged my elbow against your stupid little shower door!" Issei's voice is petulant.

"Anyways, hurry up!" You snicker to yourself. Then you go on your phone, opening your social feeds. By some twist of fate, the first message to pop up is from your ex. _Hi._

Here is what surprises you the most -- you're indifferent.

 _Maybe I'm shocked,_ you reason with yourself. _Maybe my brain is trying to protect me by numbing me to any emotion involved with his name._

But even after you give yourself a few moments and the liberty to explore how you feel, the same emotion comes up -- indifference. _I don't care about him,_ you realize. _I actually couldn't care less._ In fact, you can't even be bothered to respond.

In that moment, you have a revelation.

You click off the app just as Issei comes into your room wearing nothing but boxers and a towel over his head. "Cold," he shivers.

In response you open your covers. He tumbles in, ditching the towel, and you wrap your body around his length, big-spooning him. 

"What's this?" he says.

You whisper your revelation into your neck, watching as he registers the meaning of what you said. His neck turns red. You rest your cheek against it, utterly at peace with yourself. He's quiet, and for that you're grateful. You don't want him to say anything on reflex. You want it to be deliberate.

When he finally speaks his voice is a little thick. "Say it again?"

"Yeah," you say. "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end!!! it is a little rushed, i think, i didn't want to drag this on forever. God knows I'm awful at multichappie fics. so that's why it is so unnatural... what r your thoughts? let me know :) i can't wait to write the next installment, i love my seijoh boys
> 
> p.s. comment who the next fic should be about: hanamaki or iwaizumi!!


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